The Unsettling Sentiments of a Weasley Twin
by The-Stephanie-Scenario
Summary: Many brave souls had fallen during the Battle of Hogwarts, all whose blood was shed for the greater good. So when Fred Weasley woke weeks later, away from the destruction, the death and the dismal, why did he feel so unfullfilled, and why did he vaguely remember Granger pulling his barely concious form from the discarded rubble? He didn't know, and she wasn't talking.FW/HG MA only.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER! Or any characters, scenes, spells, etc. that are recognizable, they all belong to magnificent JK. Rowling.**

**AN: Hello all you lovely HP fans! This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction, so please be gentle. Criticize your heart out, just as long as it isn't scathing.**

**I've written a bit about Twilight, but I was always way more intimidated by the HP series so I waited a while to see which pairing I liked the most before I wrote anything. Twilight's easy, sorry to any Twihards out there, but it really is. There's hardly anything to remember about it that could confuse a story plot. This story provides a bit more of a challenge.**

**This is, and will remain to be a Fred/Hermione shipper. It might take a while for them to get there, or it might not, I haven't decided on how long or how complex the road will be, but I do intend for this to be novel like in length.**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

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The Unsettling Sentiments of a Weasley Twin

Prologue

Fred Weasley looked out across the fields surrounding the burrow solemnly. The couple holding hands and starring lovingly into each other's eyes were almost too much of a sight for him. He just couldn't tear his gaze away from his twin brother's joyful expression, the look so opposite of his own that it was startling.

No one had been more relieved than George when Fred had pulled through the final battle with his life. His entire family, the entire school even, had thought him dead when they'd retrieved the bodies after the battle of Hogwarts.

It was that little know-it-all Granger who'd forced her way into the circle of his mourning family and found his pulse, proving that yes, he was dying but he wasn't dead just yet. He should have thanked her, really he should have, but he hadn't; and when he'd woken up in his old bed at the burrow to the smiling face of his twin, the explanation shouldn't have caused a sharp sting of hate to shoot through his very core, but it had. He _should_ have been happy to be alive, but happiness was far from what he felt.

There was an emptiness inside Fred that he'd never experienced before. The fun-loving jokester in him seemed to be on holiday, and it didn't appear as though he'd be returning any time soon. The hollowness in his chest below the vicious scar left from an even more vicious explosion was all he could think about anymore.

The way he'd looked at his younger brother just as the stone of the wall exploded in on them was etched behind his eyes. The fear there, and the fear he knew had been reflected back at the youngest Weasley son in those last few seconds before they'd been engulfed wouldn't go away. Just as the faint glimpse of Granger's large mane of hair, the feel of her hands on his chest and the warm glow that followed as it spread across his body, wouldn't cease to leave his mind's eye. Fred knew there was nothing to fear anymore, just as he knew he should be thankful that his family had come out unscathed.

The truth he hid behind those cloudy pair of sapphire eyes was that for a few brief seconds that lasted like years, Fred had felt like he'd been in a better place. He'd felt lighthearted and happy and completely fulfilled with the way he'd gone out, protecting people he cared about, as he'd always wanted to.

So, when he was pulled out of that heaven, and forced back on Earth all he was left with was the bitter resentment he couldn't help but feel. He wished he'd been left as he was, as selfish as that reality was.

He wished that frizzy haired witch had never pulled him away from that happiness, and he resented her most for it. The emptiness was because of her, and _that_ just wasn't something Fred Weasley was willing to forgive so easily.


	2. Life is for the Living

**AN: I've made one diclaimer and that relates to every chapter, I don't want to keep repeating myself. It's there, I don't own the HP series or anything in them. Oh, I also don't own any music referenced in this either. **

**WARNING: This is an M rated fanficition, and while I'm not sure if things will ever get actually sexually explicit, there will be cursing and violence along with some dark themes. So mature audiences please. **

**Okay, so this is chapter one of TUSWT (aka. The Unsettling Sentiments of a Weasley Twin.)**

**Here we go! See you at the bottom :)**

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_The Unsettling Sentiments of a Weasley Twin_

_Chapter 1: Life is for the living_

_Chapter song (so the song I was listening to while writing this): The Seeking- Alone_

"Fred, your mum says breakfast is ready," the last voice Fred Weasley wanted to hear broke through the haze enveloping his brain. His dark blue eyes snapped to the door automatically, where they collided with a honey colored gaze of a young woman he'd once upon a time looked up to.

"Fine," he muttered coldly before shifting his gaze to something safer, like the window looking out to the grassy fields surrounding his home.

He heard his door close quietly, and wondered how much courage it'd actually taken for the girl to speak to him at all. It wasn't a secret that he'd regarded her differently since the final battle. At times it was downright obvious, to the point where his mother would send him piercing looks that he would ignore. No one knew why and after all that they'd been through; the Weasley family figured it'd be best to let matters rest for the time being.

Fred stood easily from his seat on the edge of the bed. Crossing his and George's room he stared at the full length mirror before him. Even his appearance seemed dull to him. His dark auburn hair seemed lank against his pale skin and his Arctic Ocean eyes seemed black and empty. He sighed, but it was more for show than anything. He detested making appearances around the house, not when he knew the others could see so easily that he wasn't alright.

"Fred!" His mother's voice jolted him into motion and he finally made his way down for breakfast.

The sight that greeted him was normal and foreign at the same time. His family was all seated around the table laughing easily with one another, but the two extra additions to the table weren't something he was used to seeing yet, even with weeks of the same routine. Harry was nestled between Ginny and Ron and his eyes rested solely on Gin. Granger was to the left of Ron, and also next to the only unoccupied seat. It was purposeful, maybe just not by her.

He sat stoically at the utmost edge of his seat, never glancing to his right.

"How'd ya sleep last night, Gred?" George asked, playfully spinning an apple on his finger wandlessly. Fred knew, had he looked any further up his brother's body, he would have been met with the seriousness that was George Weasley at that moment.

"Fine, Forge, and yourself?" he asked back but the nickname held none of the warmth that it used to, and the sudden silence in the room was proof that he wasn't the only one who noticed.

"That's not how I remember it," George continued, glancing at Hermione almost fast enough for anyone to notice. Had the rest of the table not been starring so intently at the Twins, the look would have been missed entirely. It was George's intention for it not to be.

"I don't know what you're talking about," responded the monotone voice of George's twin.

"Ahh. . . Perhaps I should remind you, Twin, of a certain witch that seems to be reoccurring in your dreams. I'm sure she'd—" George's words cut off as he quickly transfigured the flying fork into a feather. Had he not been ready for it, the offending utensil would have hit him right between the eyes.

All eyes observing the brother's display turned in shocked silence to Fred, whose jaw was clenched tighter than his white knuckled fists on the table top. He appeared to be shaking a bit as well, and George wondered if it was too soon to try to push his brother out of the catatonic state of mind he'd been dwelling in for the last couple weeks. He snuffed out the thought immediately. This needed to be done.

"Piss off, George," Fred snarled, aware that given his nature, his family had probably never seen this type of reaction from him, but George just looked on steadily. He wouldn't be easily swayed in his decision.

"Can't do that, Twin," George responded. "We need to talk about this, much as it pains me to admit," he smiled weakly but it didn't have much of an effect on Fred's anger.

"I agree, Fred. The way you're acting . . . it isn't healthy," Granger sided with George lightly, even thought to Fred it was the worst thing anyone could have said to him in that moment. He couldn't help the way he'd snapped.

"Yeah, Granger? That's pretty fucking rich coming from you of all people!" Fred shot from his seat, pushing the chair to the ground in his haste; he starred angrily down at the bushy haired brunette.

"Fred!" Molly scolded, but there was no real anger behind it, she, like most others at the table were a silent audience to the destruction the war had had on their family.

"You have an awful lot of hate for someone who saved your life," she snapped back bitterly, standing from her own chair, though not as roughly as he had.

"Saved my life? Is what I'm living even a _life_? I breathe, I eat, I talk but that's it. Is that even living, Granger? My family was in mourning! They would have gotten over my death, yeah it would have hurt, but it would have made them stronger. You should have left your abnormally large brain and whatever the hell you did to me out of it!"

"I couldn't just let you die, Fred." She whispered back, the softness of her tone after the volume of his rant made him feel dizzy.

"Maybe you should have. It would have been better than this." And with that, Fred stumbled with some difficulty out of the room and back upstairs to his bedroom, clutching the scar over his chest tightly all the way.

Hermione starred after the stumbling man, unsure of herself again for the millionth time in the last two weeks since Fred had woken. She could sense immediately the resentment he felt towards her. He hated her for saving his life; she knew that, she'd have to be daft if she didn't. Hermione Granger was the brightest witch of her age, and she didn't get the title for nothing.

She knew it was dangerous to do what she did, to Fred and herself mostly; but when she saw him cold and lifeless under the stone and then again in the great hall after everything was over; her reaction had been almost startling. She was devastated, but that wasn't the half of it. Emptiness had run rampant through Hermione's being and she barely noticed her own hand going to the beaded bag at her side.

The twist of the time turner had jolted her back into reality and then she was running, as fast as she could possibly go, dodging curses and hexes and death eaters, trying to get to Fred before they moved his body. Her lungs had felt as though they'd collapse but she pushed herself faster, throwing a few of her own stunning spells as she saw fit. Her sole goal was to get to Fred, the need was some driving force beyond her comprehension, and when she saw him there, cold and barely breathing surrounded by a cluster of stones she acted on instinct.

Hermione dropped to her knees in front of Fred, pulling as much of his large body towards her as she could, positioning him face up so she could take note of the damage. His closed eyes gave him the appearance of sleep and then, as she was staring at his peaceful expression did Hermione let the tears she'd held back fall free.

Blood soaked through his shirt and it stuck to the front of him like a second skin, pushing her hands against the wound she felt a warmth envelope her, incasing her in heat and light. A golden glow encased her for some time and when her magic was finally too drained for her to go on, did she stop. Her hazel gaze was bleary but she vaguely remembered watching Fred take in a harsh breath and open his eyes again.

The color reflecting back at her was like a soothing balm to her soul and she knew she needed to get out of there before someone came to retrieve his body. He was better, but not fully healed, that would take time. She pulled away from Fred just as his eyes shut once more. Standing a bit unsteadily she made her way down the hall and into an alcove away from piercing eyes. She'd need to move again soon so she could intercept her past self, but for now she would rest.

"We're all grateful to you, dear," Molly spoke up quietly, pulling Hermione away from the past effectively. The older woman stared back at Hermione earnestly.

"'Mione. . ." Ron began to stand but she waved him away with a dismissive hand. They hadn't kissed since the battle, and Hermione knew it was just a heat of the moment situation, as did Ron; still things weren't completely back to normal with their relationship. She didn't want him trying to console her for something she has no regret in doing.

"Thank you, Molly. I'll just be in my room in anyone needs me," Hermione smiled kindly, but a familiar ache in her chest began to throb. She hoped no one noticed but she could feel the heavy look that George sent her way. He was the only one who knew what Hermione had really done to save Fred and the sympathy he felt towards her was unending.

"You should rest, you're looking a bit ill," Molly advised maternally and Hermione smiled and agreed before she too uneasily made her way out of the kitchen.

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